Working Late
by Kalira69
Summary: Tobirama returns from a mission in the middle of the night and discovers how Madara handles himself when left behind in the village.


Tobirama cocked his head, eyeing the stacks of paperwork colonising Madara's desk. While messily shuffled, several of them were significantly shorter than Tobirama would have expected.

Madara shifted jerkily, reaching out to snag another form, then wetting his brush and in the process getting several _more_ ink spots on his already-speckled wrist. Tobirama shifted his weight to lean against the doorframe, watching as Madara scanned the scroll, making quick notes along its length.

He _looked_ like he'd been working all day or possibly all week at the tasks before him.

Tobirama shook his head slightly, fond but a bit exasperated. He watched Madara apparently finish with the paper before him, scanning it with a somewhat glazed expression. Then he put it aside without looking, joining a slightly messy stack on the table behind him and to one side.

Madara dropped his brush - Tobirama winced as the still-wet tip flicked against the wood of his desk - and rubbed his hands over his face.

Tobirama pursed his lips, having been about to move but waiting to see what Madara would do without interruption first.

Madara lowered his hands then reached for a report from the stack without pause.

Tobirama sighed, watching as he began to read over it, hand groping for his brush without looking. He found it just as he began to turn his head to look, then dipped it blindly right at the edge of his ink, one finger rubbing along the edge of the paper he was reading.

"Is this really what you do when Izuna and I are both away from the village?" Tobirama asked, and Madara jumped, looking up with wide, startled eyes. He _must_ be tired not to have felt Tobirama come so near - and not only near him but crossing the threshold into his office, if only just, and lingering there. Tobirama gestured at the disarray of work in progress across Madara's desk.

"I . . . don't know what you mean." Madara said gruffly, his right hand tipping backwards until the back end of his brush tapped against the table. Despite the gruffness, his slightly bloodshot eyes, and the heavy lids half-hiding them, Madara looked . . . so happy to see him, eyes warming immediately and lips beginning to curl upwards.

Tobirama fought to keep the smile off his own face and smothered the warm feeling rising in his chest. "Of course not." Tobirama agreed, inclining his head. He finally stepped away from the doorway, crossing Madara's office in a few quick paces and reaching across the desk to pluck the brush from his suddenly slack hand.

Madara looked down at it blankly, as though he wasn't quite sure why it was empty - or perhaps he was finally noticing the ink speckles he'd splattered on himself. "Ah. . ."

"I think you can leave off here for the night, don't you?" Tobirama said, arching a brow.

Madara frowned, looking down at the scroll spread out before him. "I was going to finish off the rotas for the next set of guards on border patrol." he said, though his voice was lacking the belligerence that Tobirama would normally have expected with such a statement.

"I've only just come home," Tobirama coaxed, "don't you think you can stop and accompany me home?"

Almost instantly Madara looked as though he'd been swayed - probably it was what he _wanted_ to do as well, Tobirama thought fondly, even if he'd been set in his course working, and absorbing himself with the task.

Tobirama raised his hand and cupped Madara's cheek, thumb rubbing over one smooth cheekbone. "I would rest better if I could have you by my side again." he said softly. Honestly, as it happened - Madara's presence, both his deep well of fiery chakra and the warm weight of his body, had become amazingly soothing to Tobirama in a way his younger self would never have believed possible for so many reasons.

He spoke honestly . . . but also very much playing on Madara's want to take care of those he loved . . . and remind him at the same time of how much _he_ liked to rest beside Tobirama.

For all his trust issues - valid and understandable as they were - Madara had actually adjusted much more swiftly and perhaps smoothly than Tobirama to their sharing a bed, and Tobirama suspected he was even more acutely displeased when they could not.

Madara rubbed his face - fortunately the ink on his skin was dry and he did _not_ spread any of it across his face with the gesture - and pushed back from his desk, then paused halfway through rising, looking down at it again.

"I'm sure it will be fine for now." Tobirama said again, gently.

Madara hummed and nodded, moving out from behind his desk rather stiffly. As he got closer Tobirama frowned as he saw that while there might be no stark streaks of ink on his lover's pale features, there _were_ darkly bruised marks beneath his eyes. He wondered how many nights Madara had spent working in his office like this instead of sleeping. No doubt while also keeping up with his usual daytime duties.

Tobirama moved towards the door only to be stopped by Madara's arms wrapping around him. He tipped his head just in time to get a faceful of spiky dark hair as Madara's cheek settled on his shoulder, his lover pressing close against him.

"Welcome home, dear one." Madara said softly, rubbing his cheek against Tobirama's shoulder, and he swallowed against the thick feeling in his throat.

"It's good to be home, love." Tobirama returned in the same soft tone. He tried to twist to return the embrace, but Madara's hold on him tightened sharply, preventing it. He stopped, allowing himself to just be held - basking in it a little, really, some of the wound up tension he was still carrying after two weeks out of the village seeping away.

Madara hummed, nuzzling his shoulder again, then loosened his grip and stepped back, giving Tobirama a crooked smile. "You just got back from a mission, why are you even in the office at. . ." he trailed off, lips tugging into a frown as he glanced out the window at the dark sky.

"I saw the light here just as I was reaching the Uchiha district, and . . . I wanted you home with me before I try to rest." Tobirama admitted, shifting one shoulder uncomfortably.

Madara squeezed his arm just above the elbow. "Of course." he said simply, and didn't force Tobirama to face the admission he had made. They both _knew_ they rested better with the other nearby, now, but they never _spoke_ of it. Worse, Tobirama had been so on edge the three days he had stayed in Iwagakure this past week that he had barely slept at all, lying alone in the guest quarters of a strange village he in no way trusted. "Let's go home."

Tobirama sighed and nodded, a little startled when Madara's hand slid down his arm to clasp his own rather than turning him loose. He didn't pull free of the hold, though.

They turned out the light in Madara's office, he pulled up the wards as he closed his door - although there _were_ guards somewhere in the tower, of course, all night - and slipped out the window at the end of the corridor rather than descending the stairs.

It was a matter of minutes to skim over the rooftops, carefully silent and yet grinning a bit, enjoying the feeling of running free - and _knowing_ , despite the quick pace, he was safe - hand still clasped snugly in his lover's, towards their home deep in the Uchiha district. Something else Tobirama wouldn't have ever anticipated - his living here or how comfortable he was here - but Madara as Clan Head _must_ live here, naturally.

The house was quiet and the slightly stale feeling of the air as they entered made Tobirama's brows rise; he wondered if Madara had even been home while he was away. He put the thought aside, however, happy to be home and back with his lover as they headed straight for bed.


End file.
